The Toothless Wonder

For the last couple years, Youngest has watched his brother and all his classmates get loose teeth, coins from the Toothfairy, and then grin--showing off those awesome gaps. But Youngest's teeth remained stubbornly tight. Not even the slightest wiggle. Last year, he came to me with a sigh and said "Mommy, when am I going to lose a tooth?" He looked so forlorn that I hugged him and said his teeth would come out when they were ready. He nodded and sort of moped away.

Well, this year, he has hit the jackpot. A couple weeks ago, he lost his first tooth (while we were at a restaurant, no less), and on Sunday he lost another. And, he's got four more loose teeth. Four! I don't know how this kid eats!! Plus, once all these teeth fall out, he's going to be gumming his food to death.

But he doest care. Right now he's smiling, showing off his jack-o-lantern grin and loving every minute of it. In the mean time, I think I'll dust off the blender, just in case. :)

Birthday Breakfast

My birthday was back in October, and DH got up early and made me a special, delicious breakfast of salmon on fresh bread with greens and a poached egg. He also made a bloody mary garnished with bleu cheese stuffed olives and salami. It was fabulous!

The boys got up with him, and as they were pulling all the ingredients out of the fridge, Youngest decided to add his two cents:

"Daddy, you don't have to make all that stuff. Mommy's breakfast is easy! All you have to do is put a bowl on the table and she'll put in whatever cereal she wants."

I guess it shows that he pays attention to what I usually eat. :)

Blue Belts!

My kids got their blue belts in karate last Saturday!

They are so happy. Their test was quite the challenge, but not because of the material--all the kids knew their stuff. If they didn't, then they wouldn't have been invited to test. The challenge was that there were so many kids there! I'm guessing around fifty, all between the ages of five and eight. There were four different ranks, and the groups of kids got smaller as the ranks got higher. The two largest groups were the two lowest ranks, which is where my kids were.

The teachers did a great job of managing all of them, but, really, it was like herding cats. They had a mind to go in all different directions, and keeping them on the same track took a lot of effort. If I'd been running this event, I'd have needed a nap immediately afterward. :)

Out of the twenty or so in my kids' group, I'm guessing there's only two who've truly been bitten by the karate bug. They're the ones who will continue on to the higher ranked belts. They're always so focused on the teachers, doing exactly what they've been told, and trying as hard as they absolutely can to get their technique right. There isn't an ounce of laziness or tiredness in their training.

Oldest is one of those kids, and a six-year-old girl is the other. Youngest tries hard, listens, and trains to the best of his ability, but he doesn't have the focus that Oldest and this other girl have. I wouldn't be surprised if he lost interest down the road. Then again, he's surprised me with much bigger things, so maybe this will be another one. :)

In the mean time, though, they're thrilled about getting their blue belts. They even slept with the actual belt Saturday night. :)

How Old Is Too Old?

Oldest still believes in the Easter Bunny. And the Tooth Fairy. And Santa. When he was younger, he used to believe that everything he read in books was real, too: fairies, leprechans, dragons, talking and thinking robots, talking trains, etc. Which, of course, is perfectly natural.

He doesn't believe everything in books anymore because I've explained that they're just stories. Someone made all those things up and then wrote them down--like I do. He knows I'm a writer and that I make up stories, so he made the connection pretty quickly.

But then there's these other characters that are in every day life, like Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy. He fervently believes in those, draws pictures for them and writes letters and everything. And I've been contributing to this belief. Of course I have. It's what parents do, because it's fun to have gifts appear from some magical source, and I have fun getting creative about it every year.

But he's almost eight years old now. I know that at least one of his friends figured out the Tooth Fairy, but I'm not sure about Santa or the Easter Bunny. I can't remember how old I was when I found out my mom was behind it all, and I have no clue how it was all revealed. So I can't use this as a gauge for my own kids. I'm a tiny bit worried that my profession as a story teller is working a little too well in perpetuating the belief in these fictional characters, and I have no idea what to do about it.

How old were you when you found out about Santa et al? How old were your kids? Am I being silly to worry about this? :)

My Little Rule-Follower

Yesterday, Youngest had a friend over to play after school. These two are best buds, and they play really well together. They get really energized and run around all over the place, but hey, they're boys. It's what they do.

Over the years, we've made certain rules in the house because Youngest isn't the most coordinated child, and he sometimes gets hurt while trying to do something that's completely beyond his ability. So, we have your basic safety rules. Don't run on the stairs. Don't play in the kitchen. Don't jump off the top bunk bed. Don't play with Mommy's free weights. Etc. We've spent quite a bit of time drilling these rules into Youngest's head so he knows not to do these things.

Oldest doesn't have the same problem since he was born with good coordination, as does the boy who came over. The boy didn't go so far as jumping off the top bunk, but he's definitely coordinated enough to do other things. Youngest was having a great time, but as they were playing I kept hearing his little voice reminding the other boy of the rules. They'd be in the middle of something, and then Youngest would yell "No running on the stairs!" or "No playing with the weights!" or something. He'd never stop playing, he'd just yell out the rule. The other boy would listen and then move on to something else, so it was kind of like a dance. They'd play and play until Youngest steered them in a different direction by citing a rule, then they'd play and play again until another rule came up. It was so funny. And I was proud of him for remembering these rules even though he was so involved in playing with his friend.

Of course, the biggest rule-followers often turn into the biggest rule-breakers once they hit the teen years, so I'm trying to mentally prepare myself for that, starting now... :)

You're All Better, Right?

Last tuesday was my first day of physical therapy. It went well, and, as most everyone knows, it was just the first step in a long road to recovery.

My kids don't know that, though. :)

Earlier this year, they discovered karate. There is an amazing dojo in our neighborhood that also has a kids' program. Well, a friend of mine goes there, and we watched her test for her brown belt in January. She'd gone through some major physical difficulties the year before, so my heart swelled with pride watching her complete her test and recieve her brown belt. I still get all warm and gooey inside just thinking about it--watching her was truely inspiring.

I took the kids with me to watch her test, mostly because I didn't have a sitter, and wild horses weren't going to keep me from supporting my friend. :) As it turned out, though, they were interested. Youngest was watching the white belts and trying to mimic their arm movements, and Oldest was studying everyone with an amazing intensity. One of the teachers from the kids' program noticed their interest and came over to say hello. She invited us to come and watch the kids' class to see if it's something they wanted to do for themselves. So, the following week, that's what we did.

After the kids' class was over, I asked the boys if this was something they wanted to try. Oldest said yes, but that he wasn't going to because he'd have to start as a white belt. He wanted to be a black belt. (!) I bit back a laugh, and told him that everyone has to start as a white belt.

Karate is something I've always wanted to try, ever since I was a kid, but I  never had the money or the opportunity. Then my knee gave out. My body has never given out on me before, so this has been difficult to deal with. I don't like it, at all. But as I watched my friend get her brown belt, a new feeling came over me. What she went through makes my torn meniscus look like a scratch, and look at where she is now! It made me realize that if I never got the chance to study a martial art in my lifetime, I would truly regret it. So, I told Oldest that I was going to sign up for karate, and that I'd have to start as a white belt.

His eyes widened at that. "You're going to be a white belt?" he said.
I nodded. "If this is something you think you want to try, then we can be white belts together as soon as my knee is all better. But, even if you decide not to, I'm going to do this."
He thought for a moment, then decided he wanted to try. But he didn't need to wait around for my knee to get better. :) That was last month.

Last Tuesday when I got home from physical therapy, the first thing Oldest asked me was how physical therapy had gone. I said it went well, and he got all excited. "Does that mean you get to do karate with me?" I laughed and said it would still be a while before I could do karate. "Oh," he said. "Well, can you do a front snap kick? Like this?" He demonstrated, and it was so cute that I couldn't tell him no. I did one to the best of my ability (i.e. not very well) then he took me through all the kicks, punches, and blocks that he knows. When he was done, and could see exactly how much I couldn't do yet, he told me I should keep doing physical therapy and that he hoped I could start karate soon.

I hugged him. What a little sweetheart!

Knee Update

So, two weeks ago, I went in for arthroscopic surgery on my knee. I'm happy to report that I'm recovering extremely well. I have my full flexibility back, and now I'm working on regaining my strength. I start physical therapy today, too, so I'll get a set of exercises that I'm sure I'll have to do every day.

I saw my doctor last week so she could check up on how I'm healing and write me a prescription for physical therapy. She's happy with how quickly I was up and on my feet, and with how few pain pills I needed to take (one. seriously, that's it). She also had color photos from the surgery, so I got to see the actual tear in my meniscus. It was bad!! The torn tissue had flipped under itself, forming a hard ball. She said it was kind of amazing that I'd been walking around for so long on that, because it would feel like I had a little rock stuck inside my knee. And, yeah, that's kind of how it felt. :) So I'm very glad I went ahead and got the surgery before that tissue had a chance to mess up my cartilage.

I'm planning to take it slow and not push myself too hard (which isn't easy for me; I tend to push myself beyond my limits), while trying to maintain a steady improvement. It's nice to be able to sit on the floor with my kids again, and now that it's starting to warm up I'm hoping to be able to play soccer with them once the grass comes up.

Choices

So, remember last December when my knee gave out? While I was in another country? Well, after multiple visits to the doctor's office, an x-ray, and an MRI, it turns out that physical therapy isn't going to cut it. There is a layer of soft tissue between the cartilage, called meniscus, and mine is torn.

According to my doctor, I have two choices: I can get surgery to fix it, or I can leave it as-is.

If I get surgery, I will be laid up for two weeks, unable to drive and in some pretty good pain for a while. I'll also be in physical therapy for two months. The surgery itself is arthoscopic so I won't go under a knife, but I will still be severely limited.

If I don't get surgery, I can still get around fine. And that's pretty much all I'll be able to do. I will have to be careful not to bend my knee too far, and, if I do, then the pain can be managed with ibuprofin and possible cortizone shots to reduce swelling. But the pain won't be over the top and I'd be able to function okay.

So, my choice is basically this: do I go through a lot of pain for a short amount of time, or do I live with a constant, dull pain for the rest of my life?

Well, for me, the choice was obvious from the start. I'm an involved mom. I like to play with my kids, whether it's sitting on the floor putting legos together, playing board games, cards, putting puzzles together, etc. Or, playing soccer or baseball in the yard, building a snowman, going sledding, giving my kids piggy-back rides, etc. That doesn't even include the things I want to do for me, like hiking, camping, climbing, and who knows what else.

If I chose to do nothing and manage the pain for the rest of my life, then I would be putting a thin layer of hesitation between me and the rest of the world. Between me and my kids. And that's something I can't do. So, next monday I go in for surgery. Hopefully it will go well, and I'll be back to my normal life in no time.

Getting Rid of Training Wheels

I'm a pretty even-keel, content kind of person.  I can take almost anything and come up with a smile, and there's very few things that I dislike with intensity.  Actually, there's only two things I can think of that I really, honestly, and truly hate.  We're talking hate, as in those two things are vile and disgusting.  What are they?  Raw oysters, and running.  *shudder*

The last time I tried a raw oyster, I was in a really fancy restaurant, and it took every ounce of will power to not spit that thing back out on the plate.  And running?  I ran all the time when I was a kid, and I guess I used up my lifetime supply because now I can't stand it.  I run for the train.  Maybe.

There is a point to this, which I will be getting to shortly...

Anyway, I took Oldest to the park on sunday with his bicycle.  We took the training wheels off, which meant that I had to hold on to the bike to keep him from falling over.  We started out slow as he tried to remember to put his feet down when he stopped, and also how to get the bike going without falling over.  Then he got more confident and started going faster.  Which meant I had to go faster.  Which meant I had to start running.  Bleh!!!

It started out as a jog, which is not fun but still okay.  I guess.  But he did great!  I let go of the bike a few times (still jogging next to him so he wouldn't know I'd let go), and he didn't fall.  Then he started weaving around all over the place and stopped.

Oldest: "The bike is really wobbly.  I feel like I'm going to fall down."
Me: "I've got you.  I won't let you fall."
Oldest: "But why is it so wobbly now?"
Me: "You slowed down.  If you go faster, then the bike will be steadier."
Oldest: "Faster?"
Me: "Yeah.  You have to go fast enough to make me run."
Oldest: "Oh.  Okay."
Me: (!) Did I really just say that out loud????

He did go faster, and we went around in circles for an hour.  Yes, an hour.  I ran for a freakin' hour!  I'm still shocked by this.  But he kept getting better, and by the time we decided to pack it in (really, it was when I could no longer stand up), he had ridden on his own a total of eleven times.  And he didn't fall down once.  I'm so proud of him!!!